Maybe We Started This Fire
by futurerustfuture-dust
Summary: Based on the prompt from Menolly23: "Can you write a fic in which Clint leaves Natasha and comes back to find her happy with Loki?" Clintasha/Blackfrost/Hinted future Phlint. One-Shot.


The pair of them had been standing in the empty room for some time as Clint struggled to come up with words, tried to find some sort of an explanation to the red head standing in front of him. To her credit she didn't say a thing, gave him the time he needed to compose his thoughts, standing just a few feet in front of him with her arms hanging down at her sides. It was about as close to relaxed as Natasha got, and even then Clint was amazed that she could feel so calm and at ease. As though nothing was wrong. That wasn't true, though; everything was wrong.

Clint sighed as he ran a hand over his face, palms sweating and eyes shifting to his feet. At least there he had a reprieve from the disbelieving look that crossed occasionally across Natasha's face, a shot of pain usually following right afterwards. It was almost too much, but, well, he had to tell her the truth. It would only hurt more the longer he let it go.

"Look, Nat, I know I don't have to tell you that nothing's-well, after Manhattan, after what Loki did to me, well, I don't know how everything can go back to normal. I don't know how to go on after that."

"Clint, we've been through this. You're not to blame for any of it." She took a slow step towards him. Clint can read her hesitance in it, how she puts the most of her weight on her heel, preparing to step back if needed. He allowed her to drop a hand onto his own, squeeze it, but shortly after he pulled away and forced himself to look up. Her brow was furrowed, blue eyes looking up into his, trying to read him for an answer. He knew he hardly had to say a thing, knew that she could read him as easily as if he was one of her targets. The exact moment the realization hit her nearly cleaved his heart in two. Her eyes flew open, mouth pressed tightly together, and very quickly Natasha Romanov, the woman he'd once clung to with all his might, disappeared. The Black Widow stood in her place, protecting her heart and thickening the woman's skin until it was titanium. Her arms wrapped tight around her chest, holding herself together as she stepped back away from Clint.

"I can't, Tasha. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Her words were curt, empty, and as powerful as the window bites he half expected her to throw at him. If she was a petty woman she might have, he supposed, but that wasn't the Black Widow's technique. "I understand. You need time. Distance. It's how you've always worked." And her words told him that she'd been a fool but expected more from him. He'd been her oldest friend after all, and that he couldn't trust her enough to be just with her? She didn't know how to move on from there, and so she pulled herself away as well. It was safest.

He reached out for her, about to ask that she didn't do that, didn't shut him out, but she shook her head and pulled away again.

"No, Clint. You don't get to make yourself out like the victim. If you don't want to be with me then fine. Own up to it." Her words were rough, edged in pain but nothing less than pure steel will beneath it. She didn't say another thing before turning and disappearing out the door, leaving him to contemplate the monumental mistake he'd just made. Not that he'd take it back. She would understand when he got his head together and explain it better, would understand that he couldn't concentrate on getting his head fixed, on figuring his own madness out and then coming back to her. If anything she might even be grateful he hadn't involved her in his problems. They were teammates, yes, but she didn't need any extra drama or problems on her plate, not like his.

* * *

He spent the next month and a half in and out of missions and spending his saved up vacation time. More than once he visited Phil in Tahiti, enjoying the heat and peace of the beaches and the ocean. Maybe it was just what he needed to get his head back together, to get Loki completely out of it, because he felt better than he had in decades by the time he finally made it once more to Shield Headquarters. Fury welcomed him back with a small smile and a clap on the back, though his face twitched in the slightest when Clint asked where Natasha was.

"She's due back in a few minutes; you can wait for her on the landing strip if you want," Fury said, voice unreadable. Clint frowned. What the hell was that about? Sure, he'd figured most people had heard about he and Nat's falling out, but seriously? He was getting flack from the Director about it? He nodded and thanked Fury once more before heading out. As the Director had predicted the jet was just coming in, and Clint grinned to see it pull back in, leaning up against the wall near the door. He'd missed her in the time he'd been away, and now he couldn't wait to-.

Loki walked out of the jet first, grinning, his arm wrapped around Natasha's waist. She wasn't pushing him off, either; if anything she was leaning into the touch, her eyes guarded as they stared up at him but lips definitely smiling at him. That was Clint's smile, the one he'd only ever seen her give him. His blood boiled at the sight, and what was more she hardly did more than a once over when she saw him, her smile lessening.

"Barton. Good to have you back," she said, tipping her head in recognition, a certain coldness sweeping in behind her eyes. Clint stood there, dumbfounded, before reaching out to grip her wrist.

"A month and a half since I last saw you and that's all you've got for me?" He asked, incredulous

"You didn't have a month and a half of time for me, so yes," Natasha murmured, her lips pursed. "I've had to adapt, Barton." She looked over at Loki, who'd disengaged and was standing by the door. She nodded for him to go ahead, which he did only after throwing the archer a quick, contemptuous look. The god was lucky he was even walking away as far as Clint was concerned. "Look, I'm glad you're back," she said honestly. "But you hurt me. A lot."

"And now you're with the one bastard who made me like that." His eyes narrowed, hardly able to believe it. How had the bastard even gotten on base?! "And whose idea was it to bring him on board, yours? Or his idiot brothers?"

"He got into your head, but you pushed me out, Clint. I trusted you. I came to you after the Red Room, asked for your help getting their crazy out of my head," Nat murmured, blue eyes imploring him to remember. How could he forget? "But you didn't trust me to do the same. That stung, Clint. Now maybe I've moved on a little fast but Loki? He's like me, and he's working on it. We work on things together, open up to one another. When you left he came back to make things right, and while a lot of us were skeptical at first he's trying. He's getting there, struggling like we all did, but he's opening up now."

"I've opened up to you-."

"Only when you wanted me to do the same. The minute I gave you everything I had, spilled my guts to you time and time again and had nothing else to offer? You shut me down. I'm sorry, Clint. I can't do that." She reached up to stroke one side of his face. He pulled away and she frowned.

"I'll catch you later. I have to go meet Fury for a debriefing on our mission." She turned to walk away and Clint nearly snarled in his anger, fury bubbling through the surface.

"So that's it? Seriously? Because I was trying to get my shit together you've had enough and you aren't going to even look or talk to me the same way? That's a load of shit Nat," he cursed, reaching out and yanking her back to him with a firm hand on her shoulder. She stiffened beneath his grip and he knew he was treading a very, very fine line, fine enough to convince him to let go. "I helped you out of the Red Room-gave you the second chance you needed to prove that you could be a good person and you're wasting that on him of all people? The one who fucked me over more than anyone else I've ever met?"

She paused, breathing deep as she forced herself to calm down. "No, Clint. I'm passing on the favor to someone who wants me to listen and help," she said. Her eyes turned pitying and he hated her for it, wanted to smack some sense into her. Cognitively recalibrate her and see if that didn't change a few things. "You got help from someone else, from Phil, and that's great. You don't need me, Clint. Not like I thought I needed you. I'll see you around." She dipped her head once more to him before disappearing inside, leaving Clint dumbfounded and fuming, fingers fumbling for his phone.

"Phil? Yeah, it's Barton. How much longer did you say you had in Tahiti?" A pause. "No, a few months sounds great. I promise not to make a mess of things this time." He'd done that enough as it was.

* * *

A/N: Welp, I hope you enjoyed it! It's a little hurried and I apologize, but I think I got the pain and angst across, which was my number one goal. Thanks to Menolly23 for the prompt!


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